


Other Ways

by Sinistretoile



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fucking, Oral Sex, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Outdoor Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Roof Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Smut, Tumblr Prompt, Woman on Top
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-21 02:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: When you make the 'wrong choice' to the right thing, you get suspended. Clint keeps you company.





	Other Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr challenge in June

Steve was hot on your heels as you exited the Quinjet. “What were you thinking?”  
You didn’t have time to answer before Tony, in the Iron Man suit, landed a few feet away. “What were you thinking?”  
Your hands curled into fists and those small balls of frustration rested on your hips. You cocked them to the side and glared at the elder Avengers. “What was I thinking? Oh let’s see. There’s a Hydra agent poised to assassinate the First Lady. I was in a position to stop him.”  
“That’s not the way we do things.” Tony and Steve spoke in unison then looked at each other. Before they looked back, you’d made it into the building.  
Debriefing and a shower later found you on the roof with an ice cold beer pressed to the side of your black eye and busted lip. The roof door creaked open then Barton dropped onto the empty lounge chair next to you.  
“Did you come up here to yell at me too?”  
“No. What happened with Senator Ross?”  
“I’m suspended pending an investigation to see if lethal force was warranted.” Clint nodded silently and sipped his beer. “Which is total fucking bullshit because if I was some monkey in a goddamn suit that worked for the CIA or Secret Service, I’d be getting a motherfucking medal right now. And a fucking parade.”  
“You’re not wrong.” You sighed and stood up from your chair then straddled Clint’s lap. His scruffy, weathered yet handsome face gifted you with a goofy grin. His thickly calloused palms rubbed up the denim on your outer thighs then over your ass. “The next time you shoot a guy, don’t do it on national television.”  
You let go an exasperated sigh. Shyly looking down between you then you looked up at him, biting your bottom lip. “Do you think I did the right thing?”  
“Baby girl, I’m the last person to ask about the right thing.”  
“Clint.” His grin widened at your whining.  
“What would you have done?” He leaned back on the lounge chair and sipped his beer. You lay forward, resting your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around your waist, his gaze drifting off to the starry sky above you.  
You shivered at the delicate touch of his fingers on the bare scrap of skin between your shirt and your jeans. He turned to nuzzle his nose against your temple then your ear, nudging you to look up. His hooded eyes met yours before your lips did. Clint was never good with emotions or the words to express them. He pulled away to kiss you lightly over your lips from one corner to the other then the tip of your nose. “I’d have put an arrow through his eye.” Clint’s fingertips skimmed up your back under your shirt. “No bra?”  
You bit your lip and shook your head. “No panties either.”  
The goofy grin returned. “Let me see that pretty pussy.”  
You hopped up and stood next to the lounge chair. Clint shifted, settling into the rough plastic. You pulled the tee shirt off over your tee and dropped it at your feet. He licked his lips, taking in every inch of your skin in the moonlight. You popped the button of your jeans then gave a little wiggle, tugging the denim down off your hips.  
Clint rubbed his thighs with both hands, his cock twitching against the zipper of his jeans. He grabbed your hand and pulled you back over him. He loved the innocent way you tucked your hair behind your ears as you looked down at him. He lowered the back of the chair a notch then urged you upward until he was face to face with your pussy. His hot breath tickled over your mound.  
“Fuck, you’re beautiful, sweetheart.” He locked his arm around your waist as his disheveled head dipped between your thighs. They didn’t call him Hawkeye for nothing. His mouth knew the pressure, pattern and speed to lick and suck your clit, and his fingers slipped inside your wet, welcoming entrance to find the spot juuuuuuust right there, that made your knees weak and stars explode inside your head. You grabbed onto the back of the chair in a white knuckle grip and fisted his sandy brown hair in the other, your body riding his fingers and tongue.  
Clint petted and licked you through your orgasm then reached down to his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper. “Sit, baby. Before you fall.”  
“Okay…” Your soft, blissed out agreement made him chuckle. You sat down on his thighs. Clint struggled with his jeans, cussing and wiggling until they were down far enough. His heavy cock twitched in the chill of the air.  
Clint reached for you and gathered you against him. “You’re not done yet, are you?” You bit your lip and shook your head. “Good.” You shifted around. Drawing a gasp from you, he entered you. Your breaths mingled. Your thighs burned as you rode him slow and steady. His nails scratched down your back, and he pressed his face between your breasts against your sternum. “Ah fuck, you do deserve a medal?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Oh god, yes.” He held you tighter, thrusting up into you. The wind carried your moans and soft grunts to the night sky. He reached between you to stroke your clit, making you jolt. He smirked. “I’m so close, sweetheart. Cum for me one more time and we’ll go order pizza and watch Night Court.”  
“Fuck yea, birdman.”  
He laughed. “You’re so fucking awesome.”  
“Shushy, less talking, more fucking.”  
“Yes, ma’am.” He tightened his grip on your torso and yanked you down as he thrust up, making you shout. He rubbed your clit but it just wasn’t getting it. You brushed his hand away to take care of yourself, making him chuckle. Your face pressed into his cheek and his into yours. “Come on, baby girl. Cum on my dick.”  
You laughed. “Clint, stop it. I can’t fuck you seriously when you talk like that.”  
He kissed your cheek. “Then cum and I’ll shut up.”  
“Shut up and I’ll cum.”  
“Make me.” Your lips covered his in a sloppy, clumsy kiss full of smiles and breathless laughs. Your orgasm swept over you, making you clench your thighs. Clint groaned at the quivering of your pussy around his dick. He wrapped his arms around you and held you as tight as he could, thrusting up into you, bouncing you up and down on his cock before he seized up. His cock spasmed as he came. You collapsed onto the lounger.  
“How’d you know I’d want to watch Night Court?”  
Clint kissed your temple. “You always watch Night Court when you’re upset.” Yea, Clint wasn’t good with emotions or the words to express them…but he found other ways.


End file.
